Lurker In The Shadows
by soulofawinchester
Summary: What seems like a straight-forward hunt turns sideways. Demons and their lackies are never what they seem. Things look bad, and nobody's certain they'll make it out alive. Can our trio pull this off?


I wiped the blood trickling down from my eyebrow to keep it from getting in my eyes as I pressed my foot harder on the gas pedal of the Impala. The road seemed too long, and the car seemed to slow despite the fact that I was going nearly ninety miles per hour down the sixty-five mile an hour highway. I couldn't keep my eyes trained on the road for too long a stretch, they kept feverishly flickering over to Dean, nearly passed out in the passenger seat.

"God damn it, getting blood... all over my Baby..." Dean murmured, pausing in the middle of his sentence to try and take a breath that wasn't shallow. He winced and adjusted himself slightly in the seat, cradling his left arm in his lap, jaw clenched now.

"Fucking hell Dean, stop making jokes," I hissed angrily at him, the words biting into my tongue like acid. "You're going to fucking bleed to death if we don't get back to the motel."

Dean just let out a strained chuckle. "I'm not gonna die."

I let out a deep sigh, the movement of my chest causing a wince. I rolled my eyes and pressed down further on the gas pedal, hurtling us down the two-lane highway as fast as Baby could go. Tears welled up in my eyes and I glanced up at the ceiling, wishing I could just call Castiel down and have him touch-heal Dean for the umpteenth time, but I couldn't. We hadn't been able to reach Cas for weeks now. My teeth ground together as I took another look at Dean, his breathing shallow as he lay slouched in the seat next to me, his head lolling to the side.

Stupid! It was so stupid! All three of us knew about the Daeva, the boys hadn't dealt with them for almost a decade, but as soon as we'd walked into that warehouse it'd been over. The demon we'd been hunting for over a month now, Moloch, was crafty, and he clearly knew about us tracking him. Neither of the boys seemed concerned about it though, they'd dealt with more than their fair share of demons before, even if Moloch was a heavy hitter. But after tracking him to an old oil rig manufacturing warehouse we'd been more than screwed.

Our first clue was the absence of activity in the warehouse. We'd expected to find our demon and his murderous ring of Angiak slaves in the center of the warehouse. Plan was to split up and surround them, then close in all at once and gank every son of a bitch in that little Hell circle. It was Dean's idea. So that's exactly what we did. But what we didn't know was all them were just an illusion. A spell put on by Moloch. He was tucked safely away in an old manager office off to the side. So we closed in, ganked our little demon trio and thought we were done. Sam was the first to notice the bodies just disintegrating on the floor. Before we knew it, our plan was turned against us. Daeva were circling us and at the drop of Moloch's hat, they were on us.

As far as I could tell in all the chaos there were three of them. One for each of us. The first one yanked me from behind, and tore a nasty gash in my left arm. The force of its pull sent me flying into a rusty piece of machinery that was once used to bend metal sheets. That's where the cut on my eyebrow came from, and I'm pretty sure that deal came with a nice concussion. Even now I could feel the blood almost gushing out of the back of my head. But in my haste to get back to the boys I fumbled with my flashlight. The beam flicked on and it rolled away from me. I scrambled across the floor to get it back and the Daeva targeting me pulled me back by my leg.

I remember the feeling of it tearing through my flesh, and the ragged scream that erupted out of my throat. Miraculously the Daeva removed its claws from my flesh, probably gearing up to get another good slash into my back, and I kicked myself forward and scooped up the flashlight in my hands. As soon as I brandished it at the Daeva it shrieked, an other-worldly noise, and fled. I could hear the boys screaming at each other, but my addled brains couldn't make out to many words.

"_Dean!_" I screamed, watching in horror as I ran toward them. One of the two Daeva still targeting them slashed right up the left side of Dean's back. A spray of blood spurted out and Dean landed, face down on the concrete floor of the warehouse. Sam sprinted toward him, angry determination plastered on his bloody face, but an invisible strike from the Daeva and he was sent flying back.

Still armed with my flashlight I aimed it at every black shape that moved around us. At last I reached Dean and he was barely conscious. Sam had fought off his Daeva, using his flashlight like I had, but that wouldn't keep them for long.

"Dean? Dean, wake up," I rambled breathlessly, fear coating my words. "Open your eyes damn it!"

His head swung weakly toward me and his eyelids flickered open, my name mumbled through the blood seeping out of his mouth. Tears clouded my eyes and I pressed a kiss to his forehead, telling him everything would be all right and that he shouldn't move. He attempted to move an arm in protest, but I shushed him and looked up at Sam as he sprinted toward us on the floor.

"We need light, and these flashlights aren't going to fucking cut it," he said in a low rumble, looking around and putting two fingers on Dean's neck at the same time. I could see the tension held in his shoulders loosen once he found his brother's heartbeat. As quickly as it had dissipated it returned, and my heart sped up. We both knew Dean's heartbeat was fading, and fast.

I thought for a moment, waving my flashlight at every shadow thrown in the warehouse. There was no way the power was still working, not in this godforsaken part of town. The only other thing we could do was light the warehouse on fire.

"Fire," I breathed, the solution to our predicament igniting a chain reaction in my chest.

Sam looked at me, wide eyed, and sprinted off across the warehouse. "I'll be right back. Don't you die on me." I whispered in Dean's ear, pressing another kiss to his temple. I laid my flashlight up toward the ceiling next to him, creating a small halo of light above him. That would have to do while Sam and I rigged our escape. As he let out a huff for his response, latching onto the flashlight, my eyes grazed over the gaping wound in his back. I could see his muscles, coated in blood, red and sticky under the layers of his jacket and shirts. Anger swept through me and I sprinted after Sam, determined to make it out of this mess alive with both of the boys. The pain in my leg shot up and I groaned loudly, still going. We were not going to die like this.

"Here!" Sam shouted. He was heaving a barrel back toward where I had come from and I quickly tipped another over, spilling gasoline onto the dusty floor of the warehouse. I rolled it around one edge of the warehouse as Sam did the same on the other side, the Daeva strangely absent. This fact worried me and I kept my eyes on Dean's still breathing form on the floor. As both trails of gasoline connected, forming a perimeter around the three of us, Sam and I were yanked back and pressed firmly against the same metal-bending machine I'd hit my head on earlier.

Moloch walked slowly out of the manager's office he'd been hiding in, watching our torment, and clapped, stopping in the middle of a gasoline puddle in front of us.

"Shame you three aren't going to make it out of here tonight, you really have been a delight this past month," he drawled, straightening the cufflinks on his vessel's tailored suit. He took a step back, swinging his polished cane and letting its end hover over Dean's back. Moloch's eyes flicked to black and he stared at me, slowly pressing his cane into Dean's wound.

The howl of pain Dean let out then will haunt my nightmares for years to come. The flashlight I had given him rolled away, slipping from his fingers and stopping under a piece of machinery, now useless. Tears streaked my cheeks and I couldn't bring myself to speak, watching him hurt Dean like that.

"Stop it! _Stop!_" Sam shouted, his voice full of venom and rage.

Moloch lifted his cane and Dean let out a huff of breath, his chest heaving as best it could. The demon smiled wickedly at the two of us, pinned up like dolls, ready to break at his whim. He let out a small whistle and the dark shadows of the Daeva were circling again. One of the shadows rested over Dean's form on the floor, and both Sam and I struggled to break free of the demon's hold. He slammed us back against the machines again and we laid still.

Just as Moloch was about to slam his cane back into Dean again, his hand gripped the demon's pant-leg.

"Hope you like barbeque motherfucker," he spat, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. In an instant, Dean had clicked his lighter and set Moloch's shoes aflame. The demon stumbled backward and Dean mustered up enough strength to kick him back, sending him falling to the floor. His lit shoes dipped into the pool of gasoline as he fell and the whole warehouse was lit, Moloch included.

Sam and I dropped into the flames as soon as Moloch was incapacitated and I sprinted over to Dean, shrugging off my flaming jacket as I went. Sam backed out of the ring of fire surrounding us and yelled to me over the shrieking of the Daeva.

"I'll find the altar, get Dean!"

"Be careful Sam!" I heard Sam sprint off in the other direction without a response. I was at Dean's side then, my hand hovering in front of his mouth to check if he was still breathing. A faint current wheezed out of his tired lungs and I felt the flame of fear in my chest engulf me. "Dean..." I breathed, heaving him up onto me as best I could. He tried his best to walk, and I had to carry him most of the way, quickly dragging us both over the flames to exit the warehouse. I discarded Dean's shredded jacket as it caught fire, trying not to worsen his wound. I heard him gasp at the painful sensation that caused, but there wasn't much of a choice. I dug the Impala's keys out of his pants pocket and once we were both inside, sped back toward the motel.

"Dean?" I questioned, my voice hoarse.

No response.

"Dean?" My hand latched onto his neck, checking his pulse. His skin was cold and slick with sweat on my fingers, and I could feel my chest tightening. His pulse was still there, but it was faint. I almost didn't find it. The turnoff to the motel was just another mile ahead, we had to make it. "Come on baby, don't die on me."

We jerked to a stop in front of the motel about a minute and a half later and I supported Dean's weight on my back as I carried him haphazardly into the motel. Once the door slammed shut I laid him gently on the bed, cradling his face into a pillow. Fear shaking my fingers I fumbled with the suitcase full of second-hand medical supplies I'd pulled from underneath the bed and thrust it open.

"Katie..." Dean's voice gurgled, my hands finding his face in an instant.

"Hey baby, hey." My voice trembled as the tears spilled over my eyelashes. "Shh, it's okay honey."

Dean mumbled something unintelligible and his eyes fluttered shut. A cry of anguish escaped my lips and I hastily grabbed a pair of scissors from the suitcase I was kneeling next to, cutting straight through the fabric of Dean's button-up and undershirt. One fluid motion later and his bare, bloodied, battered back was open to the cool air of the motel room and I searched frantically for the small bottle of alcohol and stitch kit I'd insisted we keep in our hunter's first aid suitcase.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_" I hissed, still searching. If Dean had just let me organize this damn thing like I'd wanted he wouldn't be dying on this bed right now! I stabbed my own finger by accident on the needle and yanked it out of the suitcase, thread coming with it. I unscrewed the cap to the alcohol bottle and poured it on a large swatch of gauze, spilling some into Dean's gaping wound as I went. I heard him hiss under me and I muttered feverish apologies, almost glad to get any response out of him. I wiped the dirt and blood from his muscles, his flesh hot and angry under my touch. He'd had to have lost nearly two liters of blood by now, if I let him lose much more, the only thing that could save him _would_ be Castiel. My experience had taught me that much.

My hands shook as I pierced the needle into the bottom of his wound, gently tugging the skin back together. I kept my eyes fixed on my work, my ears focused on the sound of his breathing. It was shallow, but it was there, and I'd be damned if I was going to let it slip away. I was a quarter of the way up his wound when my own vision started to fog. My head was already pounding, the room around me swimming and spinning. I clenched my teeth together and sewed faster. If I passed out now and let him die, I would end up selling my soul to get him back.

"You're gonna stay here baby, here with me. You're not gonna die," I breathed to him as I reached the three quarter mark of the main wound. I took a second to press a kiss on the crook of his shoulder and kept sewing, my vision becoming blurred as I was nearly finished. Thank God I had taken sewing in high school, I never thought the skill would come in handy until now.

I tied up my work and cut the extra thread off the end. Dean's neck was somewhat warm under my touch as I checked his pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. The bleeding had cut down considerably now with his first wound stitched up and I started tending to the gash across his forehead once the other two were sewn up as well, the blood seeping out of my own cranial wound dripping onto the bedsheets. Dean's mossy green eyes found mine and I felt his hand rest on the back of my knee. I had turned him over as gently as I could and kneeled next to him on the bed, hovering over his shaky body.

"Katie..." he started.

"Dean, baby, shut up, I'm trying to keep... to keep you away..." I took a breath, realizing how hard it was for me to speak now. "Trying to keep you away from those nasty reapers."

"Katie?" his voice called, as I tumbled off the bed and smacked my head against the nightstand.

The door to the motel room slammed against the wall as Sam threw it open, taking two determined steps toward me on the floor, hearing Dean's concern. "Get... him..." I grumbled at him as he sat me up against the other bed. "Get... Dean..." I saw Sam's back as he complied with my request be swallowed by black as I lost consciousness.

"Kate, Kate can you hear me?"

It was Sam's voice that called me back to consciousness. I murmured a response at him and kept my eyes shut, my head pounding something fierce. I raised a hand to the back of my head and felt a mix of dried and fresh blood coat my fingers. I pressed my head back against the edge of the mattress behind me and carefully opened my eyes.

My vision met a sight that angered me. Dean was fighting Sam to get off the bed to get to me. All things considered he should be the one passed out.

"Sammy, I swear to God, let _go_ of me!" Dean's voice rumbled out of his throat, deep and threatening.

"Dean, Dean shut up! Do you want to undo all the work she just did to save your life dumbass? Stop fighting me!"

My eyelids drooped shut again and I heard Dean yell. "Then _help_ me!" Almost instantly I felt Dean's worried breath on my cheek, his leg pressed against mine. I opened my heavy lids and saw him sitting next to me on the floor, Sam squatting on my other side, Dean's tattered undershirt and button-up clenched in his fist.

Dean's warm hand pressed to my cheek and I let my head slide over to him. He cradled my head into his bare chest and I raised a hand to my face, clenching his hand in my fingers with a vice grip. Dean turned me into him, his other hand steadying me by my neck so I wouldn't slump over.

"Sammy," Dean said. I felt a small rush of air as Sam got up and stretched over the bed, pulling the suitcase down to the floor. He handed Dean another large patch of gauze and he held it against the wound on my head. I hissed into Dean's chest as I felt the sting of a needle in my arm. Sam was sewing up the gash from our ambush, much more expertly than my handiwork on Dean.

"Katie, are you okay?" I knew he wasn't asking about physically, none of us were okay.

I couldn't muster up a verbal response, so I just kissed his collarbone in front of me. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and continued, "It's okay baby girl, we're okay."

"Mmmph..." I attempted at speech, but Dean shushed me again, knowing what I was going to say. "Sammy's fine too. Bastard lucked out on this one."

"Sam?" I finally managed to croak, not trusting Dean's blanket response on the status of Sam's injuries.

Sam let out a chuckle. "He's telling the truth, I'm fine, really. Cuts and bruises, few burns. Not nearly as bad as you and my idiot brother."

"Hey!" Dean said defensively. I felt him wince under me. "If you'll recall, I'm the one who lit that bastard on fire."

"Stop it guys," I slurred, my voice low and bubbly.

Sam laughed again and continued sewing up my arm. He cut open my jeans at the bottom to get to my leg and finished there too in a few minutes. I could see my vision getting better, Dean's freckled skin coming into focus in front of me. The boys gently sat me up and wrapped a band of gauze around my head, Dean helping me up onto the bed. I sat there next to him, still using him for support and took a look at Sam.

"Let me help you," I said groggily, seeing the odd angle of his shoulder. "Your shoulder popped out."

"Katie-" Dean began, pulling me by the hand to keep me seated.

"Dean, don't even try it." I took a deep breath, feeling much better. "You got the worst of it, you're the one who has to sit out. Remember?" I raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed.

"Wish we'd never made that rule," Dean mumbled angrily, giving me a playful glance. I smiled at him as he laid himself back across the bed, shoulder resting on the pillows.

Once I patched Sam up and popped his shoulder back into place he took a handful of painkillers and said he was going to go get us some food, that talking about the hunt could wait. Always with the plan that one. I told him to be careful again, and he just nodded, grinning at the sight of me and his brother on the bed, beaten and battered, but alive. I smiled back at him before he left.

"Dean?"

"Hm-mph?" he hummed, jerked out of his calm, swim-like sleep state. He moved to sit up but I put my hand on his arm, moving to lie down next to him. "Let's never do that again."

"A-fucking-greed," he replied. I laughed and put a hand on his cheek, turning his face toward mine.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, okay? I cannot, I _will not_ lose you too." Tears threatened to break across my eyes again, but Dean's fingers wiped them away. He let his thumb rest on my cheek, his fingers slowly stroking the divot between my jaw and ear. His golden green irises studied my face before he inclined his head toward my face and pressed a needy, promising kiss to my lips. I pushed my face forward and deepened the kiss, my hand squeezing the life out of his fingers again. We broke the kiss at the same time, eyes still closed.

His breath raised goosebumps on my face as he whispered back. "Okay."


End file.
